


Behind Closed Doors

by Syrum



Series: Avengers Tumblr Prompts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Bucky likes dirty talk, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Deepthroating, Drunken fumbling, Grief/Mourning, Homophobic Language, Loki likes his new toy, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Prompt Fic, Prompt Fill, Relationship(s), Steve is not so innocent as he appears, Stranger Sex, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Tumblr Prompt, Voice Kink, here comes Bucky, that belongs to Steve put it down, what are you doing Bucky?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-04-20 03:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4772597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr prompt fill;</p>
<p>"some pre-serum steve and loki? I'd love some more stuff for them!"</p>
<p>Steve decides to help a stranger in need, and gets a whole lot more than he expected from the tall, handsome man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve glanced down at his watch for the umpteenth time, leaning against the brick wall to his back, shivering slightly in the late autumn breeze that brushed through the thin fabric of his dress pants as if they were nothing. It was late, coming up to eight pm, and Bucky still hadn't made himself known.

If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say he had been stood up.

It was a Friday night, and as they did most Friday nights they had been due to catch a movie and grab some food at the local diner, followed by a few drinks in whichever bar Bucky thought he might have the most luck in. Bucky would usually manage to pull, Steve wouldn't. 

And Bucky was never late. Or, at least, he was so rarely late that it may as well have been 'never'. His watch again, and Steve let out an irritated huff. It wasn't as if he could even contact the man to find out what had happened, why he was late, or even if he was coming at all. Ten more minutes, he thought, and he'd head home on his own.

A scuffle and raised noises to his left had Steve's attention, and while he knew he shouldn't, he simply could not help going to see what the commotion was about. It was a fairly rough part of town, and fights happened often, though usually with Steve rightt smackbang in the middle. This time, though, the 'victim' was a tall, sharply dressed man with slick black hair, as black as midnight, his pale skin near enough luminescent in the low light. As Steve watched, one of the thugs surrounding him, someone Steve recognised from one of his own encounters with the local gangs, threw a punch which should have connected with the stranger's jaw and somehow did not. It was the outraged shout of "Faggot" and the inevitable convergence of the rest of the gang upon the man that spurred Steve into action, throwing himself into the fray with little concern for his own. Even the smallest of the gang members was near enough twice his size, and he didn't have Bucky at his back for this one, but that mattered little as, with some measure of satisfaction, he felt the nose of one of the gang splinter beneath his fist, blood spraying down his dress shirt. He missed the look of amusement from the stranger as he lithely dodged the fists and feet that tried to hurt, to maim, looking on in interest at this new arrival who seemed so adamant that he would help, without even bothering to introduce himself first.

Steve, of course, stood no chance against the barrage of blows, and he was down almost embarrassingly fast. The gang converged on him, baying for blood, and each time he tried to scramble to his feet he found his limbs knocked from under him. He felt his shoulder pop out of place and his wrist shatter, crying out at the pain, his shout cut painfully short by a boot to the back of his skull and Steve knew no more.

* * *

The smell of something warm and baked was enough to rouse Steve from his slumber, and he cracked one eye open, staring at an unfamiliar ceiling. He groaned, his head pounding, as memories from the night before started filtering through his sleep-fogged brain. He had been down and out, the tall stranger left to fight alone, and then...and then nothing, he could not recall anything past that. He had expected to wake up dead, or in the hospital, not in a comfortable bed within an immaculate bedroom with no idea where he was or who had brought him there. He expected to be in pain, he vividly recalled the way his arm had broken not to mention the inevitable bruising from the fight as a whole, but aside from his headache he appeared to be entirely unscathed. Had he dreamt the whole thing? It didn’t feel as though he had, though the fuzziness behind his eyes made it hard to think.

Pushing himself up from the bed, Steve found that his clothing had been stripped off, replaced with a fresh pair of boxers and a clean vest, the thought of another seeing his bare form enough to make him flush heavily. Glancing around, he found a clean shirt and pair of pants upon a nearby chair, both folded neatly and decidedly not his. He pulled them on regardless, buttoning up the shirt before padding barefoot from the bedroom to find out what happened, where he was and, most importantly, what was creating that divine aroma.

“You decided to awaken, then?” The stranger from the night before glanced up from his book as Steve found his way to the kitchen, offering the blonde a small smirk. “I had thought breakfast might rouse you, it appears I was not mistaken.” It was clear from the look of him that the man was not a native, his strangely elaborate way of speaking only serving to reinforce this assumption. England, perhaps, though Steve pushed all thoughts of the man’s origin out of his mind as a plate was pushed in his direction.

“I-” Preparing to refuse the kind offer, Steve’s stomach decided at that point to release a loud rumble, causing him to flush a little in embarrassment. “Thank you.” He finally settled on, taking a seat opposite the well dressed gentleman and biting into the warm pastry, humming in pleasure at the taste of apple and cinnamon. The thing was soon gone, replaced with another and joined by a fresh mug of coffee, the stranger all the while watching him in amusement.

“I am glad they meet your approval.” Steve had the feeling that he was being mocked, but as he looked up he saw no malice in those bright green eyes, or that slight teasing smile, and despite himself he found he was smiling back.

“They’re great, thanks.” Finishing the last of his pastry, Steve turned his attention on his mug of coffee, the heady hit of caffeine enough to clear much of his headache. “Why am I here, though? I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but you could’ve just dumped me at a hospital and been done with me.”

"Such a strange little bird." The man chuckled, sipping on his coffee, his gaze never wavering. "I merely wished to ensure that you had not been harmed at my expense, and to thank you for your assistance in dispensing of the rabble that had thought to corner me, nothing more."

“Looks like you’d have managed just fine without me, pretty sure I just got in the way.” He shifted in his seat, looking uncomfortable, not looking up until the clack of porcelain against wood caught his attention.

“Not at all. In fact, I fear there may have been bloodshed had you not arrived when you did.” The way the man was looking at him, _devouring_ him, Steve knew that the blood of which he spoke was not his own, and he knew better than to question it. There was no doubt in this mind that this man was more than capable of defending himself.

“I should probably get back.” Downing the last of his coffee, Steve moved to stand, noting how the stranger moved with him, watching, always watching. It unnerved him, his apprehension seemingly a subject of amusement for the man and he wondered what sort of game he was playing and what the rules were.

“So soon? Well, if you insist little bird, though I doubt you’ll get far with no shoes.” He was like a snake, sliding around the table, long slender fingers trailing over the wooden surface almost lovingly as he moved. No, not a snake, a cat, long and lithe and beautiful. It was enough to send a shiver up Steve’s spine, the air in the room suddenly heavy.

“Good point. Where are my shoes, anyway?” Glancing around, heart drumming a frantic pace in his chest, Steve found nothing but spotlessly clean worktops and a half-empty pot of coffee sat upon the side. The door was now behind the stranger, so running was out of the question, and while his mind was screaming at him to run, his sense of common decency and unbridled curiosity rooted him to the spot. The man had done nothing yet to warrant such fear, and Steve was not the type to run from any sort of situation, so he remained.

“I wonder.” The man had moved around to stand before the blonde, towering over Steve, and it suddenly clicked with him. Kneeling, he glanced up at the man, hands upon slender hips and thumbs running circles against sharp hipbones. So this was what the man wanted, this was a familiar dance. He knew how to do this. Much to Steve's surprise, he felt gentle fingers tracing his jawline, as amused but still soft eyes gazed down upon him. "When I wish for you to kneel before me, I will ask for it." The man hummed, not unkindly, pulling him to his feet.

“Well what _is_ it that you want?” He was trembling, realising for the first time just _how much taller_ the man was than he, towering easily a foot above his head. Thinking back on it, the stranger had towered over his attackers as well, perhaps what had drawn their interest to begin with.

“What I want is of little consequence and less interest.” The man waved dismissively with his free hand, not yet releasing Steve’s arm from where he held it in a loose grip. “What _is_ an interesting concept to me is what _you_ want, little bird. I do, after all, owe you for your assistance, and I do not class two croissants and a mug of coffee as adequate recompense.” Steve felt as though he was being mocked, but with the man so very close it made it hard to think, as though in the presence of something _more_. A nervous tongue darted out to moisten dry lips as wide blue eyes stared up into vivid green ones.

“What I want?” He wasn’t certain who had moved first, or how, but all Steve could think of as their lips meshed together was how unfair it was that he had to stand on his tiptoes to kiss the handsome stranger. A strong arm hooked around his waist, holding him in place as a talented mouth all but consumed him, drawing tiny whimpers from deep in Steve’s throat, the sound quickly swallowed up.

“Is this what you want?” Kiss-swollen lips mouthed at his cheek as they pulled apart, the stranger apparently less affected than Steve had been, who was breathing hard and holding on tightly to the man, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Yes.” Part hiss, part whimper, Steve twisted his head so he might capture those lips for one more taste. The man did not seem to mind, kissing back eagerly, scooping Steve up with ease and carrying him back upstairs to the bedroom, depositing him gently upon the covers.

“I am yours, to do with as you wish.” The man was enjoying this game, there was no doubt about that, and as Steve watched him sprawl across the bed he wondered how he had ever desired anything else. He thought to ask a name, but a look from the stranger told him not to, and so he kept his tongue, instead focusing on unbuttoning the shirt the man wore, trembling fingers struggling somewhat with the small buttons.

The shirt was soon tossed to the floor, Steve’s own soon following it, and as a talented mouth closed over one of his nipples he seemingly forgot how to breathe. A low moan was dragged from him when, without warning, the man bit down on the tender pink nub, rolling it between his teeth before pulling back to lave a hot tongue across the abused area, soothing it.

Pulling back, the man smirked up at him, tugging Steve down for another heated kiss, moving until the blonde was straddling him and loosing a sinful moan as Steve’s ass brushed against the unmistakable hardness within his pants. This was a dance they both knew, though Steve suspected that the stranger mistook his shyness for inexperience and, with a small smirk of his own against the dark-haired beauty’s mouth, he located both of the man’s nipples, flicking at each of them before giving a light twist. It wasn’t enough to hurt, just sting, and the man arched off the bed against him with a loud cry, breaking the kiss as, wide-eyed, he stared up at the grinning blonde.

“You are not what I had expected.” The man chuckled, the sound low and heady, dropping back against the covers in a display of false submission.

“And what had you expected?” Steve dipped his head down to kiss a trail of hot kisses down the long, pale neck of the stranger, down over his chest, repaying tenfold what the man had gifted him as he nipped and sucked at one nipple, then across to the other for the same treatment. The writhing body beneath his own was enough to tell him his ministrations were no less than welcome, and the little whines and hummed sounds of pleasure from his bed partner only served to reinforce that fact.

“A meek, shy man who would permit me to take the lead in this, as in all things. I am pleased that I was wrong, little bird.” Steve wasn’t permitted to dwell on that for long, as insistent hands tugged him up from where he had been lapping at the man’s belly button. He marvelled in those strong arms for the moment, before he found his pants swiftly removed and kicked away. For the first time since he found himself engulfed by the beautiful stranger, Steve felt himself flush, his naked form revealed finally to the man.

“This seems unfair, I’m naked and you’re not.” A try at amusement to cover his embarrassment, but if the stranger noticed it he said nothing of it, emerald eyes roving over his body.

“Then let us balance the odds. Strip me, my pet, lay me bare for you.” Almost reverently, Steve unbuckled the thick leather belt, tugging it free before unbuttoning the man’s pants and sliding the zipper down. They were quickly discarded, and Steve had to sit back for a moment to take in the vision before him.

“Beautiful.” He was barely aware that he had breathed the word, staring down at the man, no, at the god that graced the bed before him. The man was all lithe muscle and long limbs, pale unmarked skin and, between endlessly long legs, a thick shaft jutted up, pointing towards the stranger’s belly, hard and hot and very interested.

“Am I?” It wasn’t really a question, or at least not one that required an answer. Reaching out, nervousness forgotten in favour of the burning, surging need that coursed through him, Steve gripped the heavy cock before him and stroked it twice, three times, pausing only when the man bit down on his own fist to stop the needy little noises that were spilling from his lips. To hold such power over someone so strong, so very beautiful, the very idea of it was almost enough to tip him over the edge, his own cock giving an interested twitch between his thighs.

Not knowing precisely what the man expected from him, fully expecting to be flipped over and ridden mercilessly at any moment, Steve was surprised when he found himself once more pressed against that firm chest, unable to suppress the thrust of his hips as he found a slick hand wrapped around his dick, and when had the stranger managed to find lubricant? He found he didn’t much care to know the answer, the man having taken both of them in hand, stroking in time with his thrusts and arching up into him. Lamenting his height for not being able to reach the man’s lips, Steve settled for mouthing and biting at that flawless chest, his own hands scrabbling at the sheets as the sensations became overwhelming.

With a breathy shout cut short from a lack of air in his lungs, Steve spilled over into the man’s hand, twitching and convulsing as he rode out his orgasm. His bed partner quickly followed suit, letting loose a low, keening moan as their seed mingled upon his porcelain skin, the sight of the man coming undone burning its way into Steve’s brain as one of the most incredibly beautiful things he had ever seen.

Finally, Steve’s arms gave out, and he found himself sprawled across the god-like beauty, panting heavily as his body desperately tried to quell his racing heart and replenish the oxygen it had lost, his asthma threatening to flare up and ruin the moment. Soothing arms around his chest seemed to help, though, and as a firm hand rubbed at his back he found his breathing evening out, the hint of pain vanishing, leaving him to wonder at the sensation as he took several long, impossibly clear breaths. Before he could put voice to his thoughts, though, the man was kissing him again, long and slow and languid, enough to make him forget his own name for a while, enough that he was not at all concerned about dozing off upon that strong shoulder, firm lips pressed against his hair, lost to the world for a time.

Staring down at the man sleeping within his arms, head pillowed upon his chest, blonde hair fanned out over the pale skin stretched over lean muscle, he could not help but marvel at the fragility of it all. They were such a contrast; this man was weak, sickly, his bones near enough protruding from beneath his skin. The blonde’s chest rattled as he breathed, a sign that all was not well within his chest, and as he trailed slender fingers over each vertebrae and down onto a jutting hipbone, he pondered not for the first time on how simple, how easy it would be, to reach up and snap that tiny neck. As he wondered on this, the man shifted against him, bed-warm and sated, loosing a small sigh and curling closer. No, he liked his little bird too much for so simple an end, if only he could keep him for just a while longer.

Loki stared out of the bedroom window, watching the retreating form of the man he had neglected to ask the name of, twirling a pencil between deft fingers. The grin that stretched across his face would not have looked out of place on the Cheshire Cat. By the time the blonde had turned back to look up at the window, expression dazed and with a small golden trinket clasped within his fist, Loki was gone.


	2. Bucky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki manages to track down his little bird, and finds a kindred spirit in the man known as Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was only ever meant to be a one-shot fic. Then my reviewers put ideas into my head and suddenly it wasn't any more.
> 
> This chapter did NOT go the way I had planned it! Like, at all! The fic was only ever, EVER meant to be stoki, and now Bucky's there and guh! I can't leave these three alone.
> 
> If you don't like the idea of WinterFrostShield, hang around until I finish chapter four, we'll have some more Stoki by then.

“Well, I had heard that you’d changed, but this was certainly not what I had expected.” Steve knew that voice, knew it intimately. Whipping his head around to locate the source, blue eyes locked on the slender form of the man he had seen in his dreams most nights for the past three years. He was not quite as tall as Steve remembered, though Steve himself had gained almost a foot in height so that could account for the perceived change, and still just as beautiful as he had always been.

“It’s good to see you again. I didn’t think I would.” The smile that split Steve’s face was dazzling, and Loki felt something in his stomach twist as the man now known as Captain turned to offer his hand. A customary handshake, he knew, but Loki simply could not resist holding on a moment longer than was necessary, noting the slight dilation of pupils in the Captain. There was still desire there, then. Good, he had hoped for as much.

“I’m sorry, I was called away.” With a small twinge of regret, Loki released Steve’s hand, letting his own drop harmlessly back to his side, noting the curious and distrusting gaze of the man stood behind and slightly to the left of the Captain. “I was sure you would understand.” Familiarity, something he could build on, and the uniform he had created for himself would certainly help to build the camaraderie that he knew he needed.

“Bucky, this is the guy I told you about.” Steve turned then, his attention on the smaller man, drawing him forward with such sincere optimism that both Loki and the new arrival - Bucky - were instantly drawn in. “You remember, the one who saved my life?” Bucky’s eyes widened almost imperceptibly at that, stepping forward with no less scepticism in his expression, regarding Loki with a little more interest.

“You undersell yourself, as always Captain.” Loki let his mouth twist into what he hoped was a sincere smile, reaching out to offer a cursory handshake to the smaller man, letting his attention travel over the man’s uniform and his insignia. “A pleasure, Sergeant..?”

“Barnes.” The man - Bucky, Loki reminded himself - kept his tone clipped, and while he might have missed the slight look of concern that crossed Steve’s face, Loki most certainly did not.

“We’re heading out for some food and maybe a few drinks, did you want to join us?” Loki was half tempted to decline, based purely on the narrow-eyed glances Barnes kept throwing at him, mistrustful to the last. A smart man, Loki thought. Steve’s pleading expression was enough to swing it, though, and Loki allowed a soft smile to grace his features, dipping his head in agreement.

“As long as I am not interrupting anything, or making a nuisance of myself.” It was worth the glare he received from Barnes for the look of pure happiness that crossed Steve’s face, and Loki allowed himself to be led forward and away from the building he had loitered against whilst awaiting the arrival of his little bird.

“So what’s the deal with you and Steve?” Bucky had waited until Steve had slipped away to the restroom in the diner they had stopped at before starting his interrogation. Loki was still uncertain as to whether he liked this man or not. On principal yes, he did, Barnes was intelligent and watchful, a useful ally and a potentially terrifying enemy. In practice, though, Loki was starting to wonder if the Captain’s friendship with his Sergeant might just get in the way of Loki’s own plans for the man.

“Has he not told you?”

“He said you saved his hide, that’s pretty much all I know.”

“Well then, how about I tell my version of events.” With a lazy smile, Loki leaned back in the booth, gaze not moving from the man before him. “I was holidaying with my brother at the time, and grew bored with his company so decided to locate something more interesting.”

“Grew bored?” Bucky asked, expression unreadable though Loki could still sense a level of unease within the man.

“Fine,” Loki huffed, finally glancing away and out the adjacent window, hoping the the gesture was taken as intended. “He had decided that he would much rather spend time with his new lady friend than with I, and we parted ways for the evening.”

“You got ditched for a broad.”

“That’s a fairly good estimation of what happened, yes.” Loki nodded, looking back only when Steve slipped back into the booth at his side, knees knocking in a way that would not have been seen as suspicious to anyone who wasn’t looking hard enough. “Needless to say, there were several cross words spoken the following day, particularly once I found out that she had departed with his wallet.”

“Ouch, that must’ve burned. Did they catch her?”

“No, she was long gone before he awoke. Fortunately, I trust Thor little with anything of import, and had kept the majority of the money myself so the trip was not entirely ruined.”

“Wait, your brother’s name’s Thor?” Loki did not like the way Bucky’s mouth twisted into an almost cruel smile, mocking.

“Yes, and what of it?”

“So that means you’re Loki, right?” He could not help the scowl that twisted his features as Bucky threw his head back and laughed. “I’m right, aren’t I?” He was practically howling as Loki moved to stand, intending not to leave, but to make it appear that he might.

“My parents were fond of the old myths, and I do not appreciate being _mocked_ by a man I scarce know.” There was a thud and Bucky sucked in a breath, laughter dying as he leant down to rub at his shin where Steve had kicked him.

“Don’t worry about him, he’s a jerk.” Steve glared over the table at his friend before turning his attention back to Loki, taking hold of his jacket sleeve. “Please, sit down?” There it was, that pleading tone, the one he remembered well.

“If he insults me again, or my kin, I shall not sit idly by and listen.” And Loki did sit, then, keeping his vision locked on the blonde at his side, even as Steve was forced to look away.

“He won’t, will you Buck?”

“No, no. Scouts honour, I’ll be good. Stevie, he was just telling his side of the story. It’s a bit more interesting than yours, has Norse gods in it and everything.” Another kick, and Bucky had to lean forwards onto the table top, trying not to laugh while holding onto his aching shins.

“I shall let that one slide.” Loki moved one hand up to rest on the table between them from where it had remained in his lap, while the other reached out to lightly squeeze Steve’s knee before retreating once more. It was risky, he knew, but it was hard enough keeping his hands to himself after so long.

“Sorry.” Came the muffled snort from the Sergeant, and Steve shook his head, exasperated.

“Now, where was I?”

“You’d just got ditched.”

“Ah, yes. I was seeking alternative entertainment, somewhere serving better drinks and attracting a marginally higher-class crowd, if you will. I had gotten lost, and my appearance had apparently attracted the attention of the...local wildlife, shall we say.”

“The fourth-street gang.” Steve added, and Loki nodded, offering him a small smile.

“Yes, there were rather more of them than I had first anticipated, and once one took offence to my presence, the others quickly followed suit. Pack mentality. I was in over my head, and then your friend appeared and suddenly the odds were in our favour.”

“Hardly, I barely landed a punch before they knocked me down.” Steve protested with a snort, downing the last of his coffee.

“You are entirely too modest, Captain.” Loki protested, turning in his seat so he could at least partly face Steve, knees knocking together once more. “I counted two fallen and one with a broken nose, which made dispatching him rather easier. I do not think I would have managed to win without your assistance, for which I will be eternally grateful.”

“You knocked a guy out, back then? Damn Stevie, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Two, actually.” Loki corrected, and it wouldn’t hurt to twist the truth just a little. It was worth it, to see the embarrassed flush that covered his little bird’s cheeks. “No thought for his own safety, mind.”

“No, that’s our Steve, diving in head first and gosh-damn the consequences.”

“He does it often, then?” The surprise was only partially feigned, and Loki had to wonder just how many times Steve had gotten in over his head and had to be pulled from a fight with men twice his size.

“Yep, even now I can’t keep him from rescuing old ladies and saving kittens from trees.” An adorable image, Loki thought, and he could not help the smile that split his features, playing with his napkin.

“Both valliant causes.” Loki teased, and the small frown that was forming on the Captain’s face was simply adorable.

“Alright, you can stop with the teasing now.” The pout was just too much, and Loki was half tempted to kiss it away, though he knew such an act would be rather detrimental to both his cover and his intentions.

“I’ll stop teasing with you when you stop with the heroics.” Bucky shot back, and he may as well have stuck his tongue out at the Captain.

“Not going to happen, Buck, and you know it.” Steve grinned, and Loki had the distinct impression that he was intruding on something personal, something private. He wondered, for a moment, just what the relationship was between the Captain and the Sergeant, pushing down the slight stab of something that was most certainly _not_ jealousy in his chest.

They sat and talked for a good while, and when it became apparent that their presence in the diner was becoming a hindrance they left, heading to a bar Bucky had heard sold good beer.

“So, where did you say you were from?” Three pints in, and Bucky was slurring slightly, Loki’s Asgardian blood and the weak alcohol served on Midgard keeping him annoyingly sober.

“I didn’t, you haven’t asked me yet.” He quirked his lips in a smile and Bucky scowled slightly, though his original malice was entirely absent.

“I’m asking now. England, right?”

“The uniform gave it away?” Bucky laughed at that and nodded, taking another swig of his drink. “A small town just south of Nottingham, do you know England at all?” Leaning forwards, Loki schooled his expression into one of mild hope.

“No, sorry pal, can’t say I do.” Any more questions about his origin were diverted, and Loki was able to lean back with a look of slight disappointment.

“A pity, it’s quite lovely. The countryside is something to behold.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet. Hey, when this war’s over, what’s say we head over for a bit, meet this brother of yours?” Whatever Loki had expected from the man, it certainly wasn’t that, and when Barnes grinned up at him he found himself warming at least somewhat to the man.

“I shall be certain to warn him of your impending arrival.” Loki’s recovery from his surprise was swift, and he covered it with a loud laugh, leaning fractionally against Steve’s side, playing the part of the drunk.

“I think you’ve both had enough for one night.” Steve gave him a light shove, just enough to right him, hand lingering a fraction too long. “Come on, let’s head out.”

“Aw come on Stevie, one more?” Bucky was finding the presence of the strange officer and his stranger mannerisms quite entertaining, and he was loathe for the night to end.

“No, you have drills in the morning and I’m the one who’ll get it in the neck if you don’t turn up for them.” With a low chuckle, Steve pulled Bucky from his seat and wrapped the shorter man’s arm around his shoulder, looking back to make certain Loki was stable enough to follow on his own. He was, of course, but that didn’t stop him from making a show of it, wobbling like a drunkard and offering the Captain a lazy smile that was possibly a little too lidded.

“Lightweight.” Bucky snorted, pushing away from Steve and reaching out for Loki, the pair ending up in a tangled, giggling mess upon the floor. Steve had to lean down to pull them both up, Loki leaning almost obscenely against his side while Bucky insisted he was more than capable of walking on his own, which after a few hundred meters it became apparent he most certainly wasn’t. Somewhere along the way, Loki lost his hat, and Bucky ended up wearing it, neither one particularly minding.

“What am I going to do with you two?” There was a note of fondness in his voice that was not simply directed at Bucky, but at Loki as well, and it made his heart flutter.

“I can think of a few things.” The cool night air was, if anything, exacerbating the Sergeant’s drunken behaviour, and Loki felt Steve stiffen slightly at the suggestive tone of his friend, glancing around to ensure they were not overheard.

“Why Sergeant Barnes, I had no _idea_ you had such a filthy mind.” The spike of jealousy had returned, gnawing at Loki’s innards, green and twisted as he leered across the expanse of Steve’s chest at the Bucky’s grinning face, animosity going unnoticed by the other man.

“I’ve got more than just that.” Bucky was reaching across, voice low, and Loki’s eyes widened as the Sergeant gripped the back of his head, drawing him in. This was going to be interesting, he thought, as dry lips pressed against his own in a sloppy, drunken kiss. It was messy, and he tasted of beer, but as Barnes forced his tongue insistently into Loki’s mouth, Loki found he did not mind perhaps as much as he should.

“Guys, _please!_ ” Steve hissed from somewhere above his head, one arm around each of the men, holding them up by their waists and hoping, _praying_ , that no one would come across them like this. It wouldn’t matter if they were discovered, Loki thought distantly as Bucky nipped at his lower lip. They would not see, would not remember. He would see to that. Still, Steve was fairly obviously uncomfortable, and it would not do to antagonise the object of his affections, though Loki knew he was pushing his luck in kissing the Captain’s best friend while hanging off Steve’s neck, even if Bucky _had_ been the one to initiate it.

“I have rooms, near here.” Dragging himself away from Bucky’s searching mouth, the Sergeant whining in loss and trying to follow, Loki tugged at Steve, losing at least some of the drunk act so that he could quicken their pace, wishing he had some way of teleporting them there without either man noticing. Bucky might not, he thought, too far gone, but Steve most certainly would, and Loki would rather not have to mess with his mind if he could help it.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” To say that Steve sounded concerned was an understatement, worrying at his bottom lip with his teeth as Bucky began to sing drunkenly and out of key at his side.

“Perhaps, perhaps not.” Loki turned to stand at his full height before the Captain, making a show of glancing around before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “I would do nothing that would not please you, my little bird. If you do not desire this, do not desire me, then simply say and I will be gone from your sight.”

“See, that’s the problem, I _do_ want this, want you.” Steve laughed breathily, looking almost ashamed of himself. “I’ve spent the past three years wanting you, and I felt so _guilty_.” Loki’s arm was around his waist in an instant, kissing him firmly as his free hand reached up to cup Steve’s face.

“Do not ever feel guilt for what you desire, little bird.” Loki could feel the approaching mind of another, and he sent out a small pulse of magic to persuade the intruder to change his course, leading him away. “Come, we shall retire to my rooms and decide what to do from there, and if ever there is anything you do not wish to happen, you only need say.”

“Lead the way then, Colonel.” Loki smiled at that, before moving to pull Bucky up from where he was hanging off the Captain, taking the Sergeant’s free arm and pulling it over his shoulders, feeling Steve’s eyes on him as they moved, with purpose, through the darkened streets.


	3. No Persuasion Needed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I lied, there will be more WinterFrostShield for a bit.

“You’re not drunk.” Loki had vanished into the kitchen of the small upper floor apartment he had rented on a temporary basis, to give credibility to his story and a safe place for both he and Steve to lay without fear of discovery. He had heard the Captain’s approach but did not turn, pulling bottles and jars from the surprisingly well-stocked kitchen cupboards and placing them on the side.

“No, I am not.” He agreed, turning finally to look into those mesmerising blue eyes, confusion and a spark of mistrust gathering there. “Your drink is too weak to get me much past merry.”

“Then why pretend?” Steve asked, his confusion evident.

“An old habit of mine, I’m afraid, and one that it seems I cannot ignore even now.” Loki sighed, locating a glass and placing it down beside the gathered bottles and jars. “I rarely seek intoxication, not intentionally anyway, and Thor would complain royally if he thought me sober!”

“So you fake it to keep him happy.”

“Indeed, and it works, better than it perhaps should. But, a happy Thor is one not trying to spike my drink or throw women at me.”

“He does that?” Steve looked surprised and a little appalled at the thought. Bucky had always been a little over the top when drunk, and would often try to get Steve to join him, but spiking someone’s drink was...okay, not unheard of, but still undeniably wrong.

“He means well of course, but he has never fully grasped where my tastes lie.” Not entirely true, of course, Thor was well aware of Loki’s preference for male company, it was simply not discussed. The expectation for a prince of the realm - particularly one with any chance, however small, of taking the throne - was that they be seen to court women worthy of perhaps becoming queen, to continue the royal bloodline. He could dally with men openly as much as he wished, but when it became time for Loki to wed, it would have to be with one capable of bearing his child.

“And where do they lie?” Stepping forward, Steve lingered barely an inch from Loki, letting the other man close the distance to loop his arms around Steve’s neck, hot breath dancing across his cheek, pulse racing.

“In those who prove their worth with action and courage, rather than with words and spite.” Entirely the opposite of himself, Loki thought. He was pressed up against Steve, the Captain’s arms wrapping around his waist and holding him there. “And, I may also have a weakness for blue eyes.”

“Oh good, I can provide the eye colour at least.” Soft lips dragged across his own, not quite a kiss but enough of a tease that Loki surged forwards, meshing their mouths together with a desperate groan, gripping Steve’s wide shoulders as though afraid to let go. His little bird had not been nearly so forward the last time they had met, and the change sent a thrill through him.

A crash from the living room drew their attention and wrenched them apart, Loki swearing softly under his breath as Steve pulled back, looking a little guilty. “Bucky-”

“I had hoped he might sober a little, or at least pass out.” Loki sighed, pursing his lips in annoyance.

“He wants you. He’s not taken his eyes off you all night.”

“And what about you little bird? You are close, it is clear to any, but does it not bother you that he desires me?” A wicked thought had embedded itself in Loki’s mind, and he crowded against the Captain once more, slender fingers tangling in his hair as he leered down at the other man. “Or perhaps you desire to bed both of us, is that it?” The look on Steve’s face and the deep flush told Loki all he needed to know, nipping at Steve’s lips even as he pulled back and away.

“He’s-”

“Drunk? I am well aware.” Another crash and Loki wrinkled his nose. “I will not take advantage in his present state, and I am certain that you will not either. Either he can sleep it off, or,” Turning in Steve’s arms, Loki indicated to the collection of seemingly random condiments behind them. “I can put together something to clear the alcohol from his system.”

“You can do that?”

“Indeed, something I learned from Mother some years hence, and she from her mother or so I’m led to believe. After all, one cannot go to war intoxicated. It will sober him swiftly, and he should not suffer too horribly in the morning either.” Steve just nodded, not questioning the necessity for such a thing. A carry-over from the first World War, perhaps? He would have to ask later, when his pants weren’t quite so tight and his mind wasn’t screaming at him to bend Loki over the countertop and have his way with him there and then.

“Yeah, Bucky with a sore head is a nightmare to live with.”

“Go and see to him, this will not take long.” He waited until Steve was out of the kitchen before turning and emptying the contents of bottles and jars into the glass at random. He was aiming for something noxious, adding a good amount of chilli heat, topping the glass up with water and then mixing well. If it tasted vile, people tended not to question too much what was in it, a constant for both Midgard and Asgard. Finally, Loki dumped a small pouch of powder into the drink, watching as it turned momentarily blue before settling back on a murky brown. A glass of fresh, clean water joined the first, more of an afterthought than anything; he did not like the idea of tasting the concoction on his tongue if Barnes were to kiss him again.

The powder itself was tasteless, simple enough to take on the tongue and it would strip any alcohol from the blood of whomever took it, but the questions and the suspicion were not worth the hassle of persuading him to take an unknown powder. He had lowered the dose substantially for Bucky, not wishing to cause him harm, and as he made his way through to the living area Loki wasn’t certain whether perhaps he had been a little too conservative. Bucky had Steve pressed back against the Sofa, straddling his lap. The kisses they shared were uncoordinated and sloppy, and Loki could not help but stand and watch for a moment. Where jealousy would have spiked within him before at the sight, now he found the cold stab of envy replaced by a hot wave of need. Would Bucky still be so receptive to this when sober? He hoped so, but one could never tell with mortals, they were so flighty.

Moving to stand beside them after placing the glass of cold water on the coffee table, Loki gently but firmly pulled Bucky back and away from Steve, letting the intoxicated Midgardian lean back against his stomach and legs. “I can never say no to him.” Steve looked guiltily up at him, and Loki let his mouth quirk up in a wry smile.

“In a few moments you will not have to.” Loki should have expected the hand that buried itself in the fabric of his shirt, dragging him down with surprising strength to mesh their mouths together. Loki could have stopped it, could have pulled away, but as Bucky moaned into his mouth he found he did not wish to.

“C’mon Buck, let him go, I need you to drink this.” Just when had Steve taken the drink from him? Loki was pleased that he had, of course, making another would have been tiresome and he would almost certainly have either spilt or dropped it otherwise, but it was still concerning that he had not noticed. Bucky did let him go, eventually, and when Loki looked up he did not miss the desire displayed so openly upon his little bird’s face at their display.

“What is it?” Bucky took the offered glass, fumbling slightly and Steve only let go once he knew it was not likely to end up in his lap. Sniffing at the noxious coloured liquid, he wrinkled his nose and tried to thrust the glass away. “Smells like the sewers, back in the city.”

“It will ensure that your decision making faculties are in order. If we are to do this, I would have your full consent, not one borne of intoxication-fuelled desire that will lead to only regret and heartache come morning.” Loki had reached down, splaying one hand across Bucky’s chest, not pushing but simply remaining there. “It will taste foul, so it is best to down it as quickly as possible.” He felt the man press back further, saw how his head twisted to look up at him with eyes barely able to focus, and knew he had made the right decision. No matter what happened once Bucky was sober, he had chosen correctly.

“Awright.” He didn’t sound pleased, but a moment later Bucky had tipped his head back, the top of his head pressed up against Loki’s belly, and in only a handful of large gulps the glass was empty. Loki took the glass as he pulled it from his lips, amusement flickering across his features as Bucky’s face contorted in disgust, replacing it with the glass of clean water he had thought to bring. That was mostly gone, too, in a matter of seconds. It did not clear the taste - or the burn - entirely, but it helped.

“How do you feel?” It was a strange sensation; one moment floating on the barely-remembered cloud of his alcohol-fuelled haze, where everything seemed more pronounced and yet softer simultaneously, and the next he had crashed down to Earth with a bump, frighteningly sober and very aware of his present position in Steve’s lap with the one called Loki pressed against his back.

“I need a drink.” He laughed softly, nervous, earning an amused chuckle from somewhere above his head and a small smile from Steve. The hand upon his chest was hot, pressing through the thin fabric of his military-issue shirt, and he thought perhaps it might burn him. Perhaps he wanted it to burn him. Steve’s hands were resting upon his hips, not gripping but twitching in a way that he knew meant Steve was struggling not to squeeze. His heart was pounding against his ribcage, and as Loki leaned over just enough for warm breath to ghost over his ear he thought he might pass out from all the blood flowing south.

“As I said to the Captain I shall say to you too; if you do not desire this, then simply say and I will leave.” Tilting his head back to look Loki in the eye was either the best or worst idea Bucky had ever come up with. Those piercing green eyes and that handsome profile, he knew he was done for. Taking hold of the hand that was still splayed across his chest, Bucky dragged it down, pressing it firmly against the hardening flesh between his legs. He felt those slender but strong fingers curl around the clothed length, rubbing firmly, a dark chuckle spilling from Loki’s lips and making him shiver in anticipation. Beneath him, Steve was struggling to remain motionless, gaze flicking between the two men, the front of his slacks straining.

“Tell me again how I don’t want this?” Bucky groaned, pressing his mouth up against Loki’s as his hips moved against the hand on his cock, losing himself in the other man.


	4. And Bucky Makes Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This whole thing is entirely gratuitous. It also took way too long to write, and my NaNo has not been started as a result. Oops.
> 
> Yes, Loki does have a nickname for Bucky. No, you don't get to find out what it is yet XD

The short journey from the living room to the bedroom took entirely longer than it should have, and it would take them a while the next day to find where all of the discarded items of clothing had ended up. Loki had dragged Bucky back against himself so that Steve might stand, the Captain immediately taking the opportunity to press the shorter Sergeant between both himself and Loki. One of Steve’s thighs pressed itself between Bucky’s legs, keeping his interest and earning a needy whimper from the man as Loki found his own lips captured in a searing, bruising kiss. Gone was the flushed nervousness of a man worried about being caught, replaced by the voracious and surprisingly talented lover he remembered from his last stint on Midgard. A tongue pressed against his lips and he parted them willingly, feeling the dig of strong fingers in his hair, knowing the gel that held it in place would not last under such an onslaught.

“Come on, I’m starting to feel a little neglected here.” Bucky all but whined from between them, and Loki could feel how he was pushing up against Steve, hips moving of their own accord. Breaking the kiss, Loki threw a small smirk at the Captain, finding that it was mirrored for a moment before Steve’s attention shifted, kissing Bucky with no less passion than Loki had received, the Sergeant’s hands gripping at Steve’s arms as he was devoured. Loki took the time to reach around and begin the process of loosening the dark tie the Sergeant wore, pulling it free before unbuttoning Bucky’s dress shirt, tugging the hem out from his slacks and dragging the pressed fabric from his shoulders, letting it crumple to the floor at their feet, forgotten.

“I think it is time we moved to a more comfortable locale, as while I am not entirely adverse to the idea of continuing this on my couch, I doubt if it would survive the experience.” Loki hummed, reaching around to dip his fingers under the hem of Steve’s pants as he nipped at the shell of Bucky’s ear, earning a shiver from both men. They parted, breathing heavily, and two sets of blue eyes turned to fix themselves upon him. Loki had very little time to react as Bucky twisted in their arms, breaking away from Steve to capture Loki’s mouth. The kiss was different from the firm yet yielding mouth that he knew well, Steve’s kisses while insistent still holding a level of question to them, and he knew if ever he hesitated the Captain would stop. Bucky, though, was all tongue and teeth, demanding in an entirely different way, lips thinner and if he were to draw a comparison, perhaps a little more talented. Hands slid down Loki’s back, over his ass to squeeze for a moment, perhaps a little too hard. Bucky was unrelenting, and as Loki’s own hands roamed over his bare skin, he found that he finally understood why Steve could not deny this man anything.

“God damn, I want you.” Bucky ground out as they parted, and Loki nodded his assent, grabbing the arms of both men and all but dragging them towards the bedroom, finding himself stopped by the doorway as Steve pushed him forcefully up against the wall, kissing him hard. Bucky had lost his pants and was in the process of stripping off Steve’s shirt, finding the task more difficult than it needed to be by the Captain’s insistence on working his way into Loki’s own, fingers fumbling slightly and three buttons pinging off as a result. It did the trick though, and with his shirt half hanging off Loki found himself hoisted into the air by the blonde, strong fingers gripping his thighs hard enough to bruise and he wrapped his legs reflexively around Steve’s hips. Lips closed around one dusky pink nipple as a deft tongue flicked over the sensitive nub, dragging a pleasured gasp from his chest.

Hands were trailing over his stomach and sides, leading down to press against the growing hardness still contained within his pants, drawing a low hiss from Loki, the sound swallowed up by Steve’s mouth as he kissed him again, Bucky chuckling somewhere below him. Fingers were on his belt then, unfastening it and tugging it free, the buckle hitting the wooden floor with a heavy ‘thunk’. The buttons were next, Loki never one for zippers, deft fingers popping open one after the other. Cool fingers pressed against his heated flesh as Bucky slid his hand between fabric and skin, Steve shifting to allow him access. Loki could only moan as Bucky took him in hand, fondling more than stroking in that confined space, his senses being assaulted by the combined actions of both men.

“You’re still so sensitive.” Steve chuckled against his throat, mouthing and nipping at the delicate skin there as Loki let his head fall back against the wall, giving the man more room to work. “I thought you might have changed, but you’re still exactly the same.”

“So glad you’ve noticed.” He could not help the sharp inhale of breath as Steve bit down, not hard enough to bruise, but it would leave a mark for a few hours at least. Loki was panting, hard and leaking against Bucky’s hand as Steve assaulted his neck, and while this had not been his plan for the evening he certainly wasn’t complaining. He had enough stamina to go a fair few rounds with both men, Asgardian blood giving him an edge that both Steve and Bucky would lack, so the thought of ruining those impossibly uncomfortable pants was less distressing than perhaps it might have been for a mortal. So, Loki could not prevent the distressed whine that left his throat as the hand around his cock retreated, locking eyes with the Sergeant.

“You want it that bad?” Bucky asked, eyes dark as he raised his hand to his mouth, tongue flicking out to lap at the shimmering smear across his fingers, proof of Loki’s desire. He seemed a little surprised at the taste to begin with, before his expression shifted into a smirk and he sucked the remaining fluid from his fingers, disappearing into the bedroom.

“You’re sure about this?” The concern within Steve’s voice was touching, if rather frustrating. Loki was still pressed against the Captain, hard and wanting, and he was running somewhat short on patience at that point in time.

“Quite sure, and if I do not have one or both of you inside me very soon, I shall have to take matters into my own hands.” He had not expected the grin that spread across Steve’s face at that, or the hand at his back holding him to the Captain’s chest as he was pulled away from the wall and carried, unceremoniously, into his bedroom, the remains of his ruined shirt left in the doorway.

“You think you can take both of us?” Bucky was wearing a matching grin to the one Steve had flashed him, entirely nude aside from the hat he had procured from Loki earlier that evening, underwear tossed across the room with little care for where it might land. He had found the jar of slick Loki had placed in his bedside drawer some days before, in case he might need it, and as Steve released Loki’s legs so that he might once more stand, Bucky was the one to strip him of his last remaining articles of clothing.

“Do I meet your approval?” Both men had stepped back, hungry blue eyes travelling over his bare form, taking in the lean, compact muscle and long limbs, Bucky’s gaze lingering on the long shaft jutting from between his legs while Steve seemed to want to devour everything with his eyes.

“Damn.” Bucky offered by way of response, giving a low whistle. “ _Damn_ , Stevie!” He turned his attention to the Captain, grinning up at his friend, though Steve refused to shift his gaze from Loki’s form.

“I know.” The Captain replied quietly, reverently, finally stepping forward to press up against the dark-haired beauty, kissing him hard. Loki kissed back, his own need evident, hands resting on Steve’s hips for a moment before sliding around to pop open the button and tug down the zipper on his pants. He pulled back, breathing heavily and with a flush across his cheeks, offering the man a self-assured smirk before sliding to his knees, dragging the fabric of Steve’s pants and underwear over his hips and down.

“Still think you could take us both?” Loki could do little more stare for a moment, Bucky’s words registering but only barely and he did not bother to respond. He had known that Steve was likely to be on the larger side, from the sizeable tent in his pants and the few times he had felt the Captain’s interest pressed up against him, but he still was not expecting anything quite that big. Reaching up, Loki found that even his long fingers could not close fully around it, giving the shaft a few experimental tugs and earning a low hiss from above him. This was not the Steve he remembered, and Loki lamented that fact for a moment, before leaning forward to swipe his tongue over the tip.

“Oh god.” Groaning, Steve reached out to find something to steady himself on, finding only Loki’s head, burying his fingers in the inky black strands. Lips closed around the head of his cock, sucking lightly as Loki’s tongue flicked around the sensitive rim before dipping into the slit. He felt the way Steve shivered under his touch, loving the power that he held. Loki dipped his head down to take more of the thick shaft into his mouth, earning a delicious moan, and he began sucking in earnest then. Taking his time, he bobbed his head up and down, swallowing a little more of the Captain’s cock with each motion, bit by bit, hand wrapped around the base to pleasure that which would not yet fit.

“That is one of the hottest things I’ve seen.” Lips by his ear, mouthing against the sensitive skin there, and Bucky’s voice was heavy with desire. Loki did not stop, instead removing his hand and focusing on taking more and more of Steve’s cock into his mouth, his throat, flesh heavy on his tongue, making a show of it for Bucky’s benefit as much as for Steve. Fingers danced over his skin, sending little shivers of desire through Loki’s body, even as Steve’s shaft hit the back of his throat and he swallowed, earning a near-shout from the Captain. “Damn, you’re a good little cock sucker.” From anyone else, it might have sounded like an insult, or at least have been meant as one. From Bucky, though, Loki thought it sounded more like praise, and he had no intention of pulling back from his task to respond to the man, and when a slick hand wrapped around his own cock Loki moaned. The head of Steve’s shaft was pressed up against the back of his throat, sliding down further still, the vibrations of Loki’s own voiced pleasure travelling along the length to draw a series of needy cries from the Captain, his hips snapping forward until Loki found his nose pressed into thick, blonde curls.

“Oh god...oh god, Loki!” Steve was entirely lost, and as Loki began to swallow, over and over, he could not help the steady stream of praise that fell from his lips. He had never felt anything like it, and looking down only seemed to intensify the sensation. The sight of Loki on his knees, swollen lips wrapped around the base of his cock and eyes half lidded in pleasure, was enough on its own. But Bucky had knelt himself beside their companion, slick fingers tugging languidly at the jutting shaft between Loki’s legs, eyes fixed on the man’s mouth. As Steve watched, Loki reached out blindly, aiming to offer the Sergeant equal pleasure, only to find his hand knocked away.

“Not yet. You’re going to have enough to focus on as it is.” There was a darkness to Bucky’s tone, and while Loki felt a slight pang of irritation at having been prevented from touching the man, it was quickly forgotten at the slide of a slick finger against his ass, dipping into the cleft to press up against his puckered opening. Loki’s breath caught for a moment, and a tap to the inside of his thigh had him spreading his knees, leaving himself open for the tip of that finger to slide into place, pressing in up to the first knuckle. Willing himself to relax around the invading digit, Loki redoubled his efforts at pleasuring the Captain, groaning as Bucky pushed in further still before pulling out to repeat the action.

It seemed an age before a second finger was added, pushing in with a little more force, his body protesting only slightly at the added stretch. The hand around his shaft tightened, tugging a little faster as Bucky scissored his fingers, twisting and pushing and leaving Loki groaning with need. When the digits retreated entirely, he might have pulled back from the Captain’s cock to voice his protest if not for the hands that had tightened in his hair, holding him very firmly in place. Loki took the opportunity to glance up, noting the deep flush that had coloured Steve’s cheeks and chest, the look of pure concentration on the man’s face, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to hold back for _just a little longer_. The mumbled praise had stopped, replaced with gasping moans and the occasional cry of Loki’s name, and it was clear he was not likely to last much longer.

“Well damn, you’re tight.” Having reapplied more of the slick gel to his fingers, Bucky pressed in again, adding a third this time, the stretch enough to burn slightly as he pushed them in as far as they would go. “Gonna feel so good around my dick, while I fuck you nice and slow.” He punctuated the last three words with matching thrusts of his fingers, dragging another low moan from Loki’s chest and that was all it took to pull Steve over the edge, the Captain hitting his orgasm with a shout and emptying down the back of Loki’s throat, cock twitching and spasming between his lips.

“Loki-” His mouth was not left empty for long; as the softening cock slipped free, Steve bent so that he might crush their lips together, tongue pressing up against Loki’s to coax the muscle into entwining with his own. Steve swallowed down the little pleasured whines and whimpered groans that Bucky was drawing from the other man, tasting himself in Loki’s mouth.

“Bed.” It was all the warning Loki got before Bucky’s fingers were tugged free, leaving him empty and wanting, shaft hitting nothing but cold air as that hand, too, retreated. He might have sworn, and likely not in English, but whatever sound he _had_ made was too muffled by Steve’s mouth to be discernable. Hands were on his chest, thumbs rubbing over sensitive nipples before Steve remembered himself, sliding strong arms around Loki’s waist to hoist him to his feet.

“I do hope your actions live up to your pretty words.” The effect of the sneer was somewhat lost by Loki’s flushed appearance and slightly unsteady gait as he followed Bucky over to the bed, eyes drawn to the Sergeant’s hand as he slowly fisted himself, glistening slick coating his shaft. He could hear the rustle of fabric behind him as Steve stepped out of his pants, and knew the Captain would not be far behind.

“I can stop the dirty talk if you want?” It wasn’t clear whether Bucky was being entirely serious or not, and Loki wasn’t about to question it, not much caring.

“I’d rather prefer it if you continued, actually.” Loki purred, leaning in to catch the man’s lips in a brief yet no less heated kiss. The bed dipped, jostling them apart, and both men turned their attention to Steve who flushed under the intensity of their combined gazes.

“Think you can finish him off again before I can get you to come?” A delightful shudder ran through Loki at the Sergeant’s heated words, tongue flicking out to coat his lips.

“Unlikely, you are _very_ talented with those fingers, but I shall have him _aching_ before we are through.” Pushing Steve back against the pillows, Loki moved to kneel over him, spreading his legs to leave himself open as he nipped at the Captain’s lower lip.

“Not quite as good, but it’ll do.” Bucky grinned, placing the partly empty tub of lubricant on the nightstand within easy reach and taking his place behind Loki. He took a moment to simply admire the taller man; he was all lean muscle, clearly a man not unused to a fight, pale and perfect. His earlier work had left smears of glistening gel across Loki’s ass and hip, sending a thrill down his spine and into his cock at the trail leading to the man’s tight pucker. Spreading Loki’s ass cheeks with one hand, Bucky used the other to position himself at his entrance, pushing forward just enough that the tip of his cock could breach the ring of muscle, drawing a gasp from the other man.

“So beautiful.” Steve reached up to trail reverent fingers over Loki’s face, his chest, taking in his flushed, panting face and drinking down the needy whine as Bucky teased his entrance, pushing in almost enough for the head to pop into place, before pulling out again. Steve reached down to grip at Loki’s hips, holding him firmly in place so that he might not press back onto the intruding shaft, giving Bucky his fun.

“You want me to fuck you?” Bucky was leaning over his back, still continuing with the maddening teasing, one hand reaching around to grip the base of Loki’s cock with thumb and forefinger. “You want me to make you come, make you scream my name? ‘Cause here’s what’s gonna happen. You’re gonna kneel there like a good little soldier, and I’m gonna fuck you good and slow, fill you up with my dick ‘til you don’t know your own name. _Then_ I might let you come, understand?” 

“Yes.” The Sergeant’s words were, despite being a little awkward, having more of an effect on Loki than he liked to admit, and his answer came out as more of a whimper than he would have liked.

“Sorry, don’t think I caught that.” Turning his head to look back over his shoulder, Loki did not miss the smirk that twisted Bucky’s features, and in noting his hat still perched - albeit at an angle by that point - upon the man’s head, he responded with one of his own.

“Yes, _sir_.” Loki purred, more than willing to play this game. “Please fuck me, _sir_.” It must have been the right thing to say, because Bucky’s hips pressed forward, burying himself to the hilt in one slow, steady motion. Loki cried out at the intrusion, still unable to push back against the man, Steve’s hands holding on hard enough to bruise. True to his word, Bucky took up a painfully slow pace, pulling out and pushing back in with enough force to keep Loki’s interest, but nowhere near enough to have him spilling over onto Steve’s stomach.

“Good boy, so good.” The strain in Bucky’s voice was evident as he struggled to continue with his slow pace, holding himself back from simply pounding into the body below him. “So tight, feels so good.” Teeth grazed against Loki’s back, down his spine, as Bucky’s hands moved to replace Steve’s on his hips, leaving Steve free to explore Loki’s body. Fingers trailed over his chest, his stomach, grazing over his jutting length for a moment before moving back up, paying particular attention to his nipples. Steve had clearly remembered just how much he had enjoyed having them played with the last time they met, and fully intended to use that knowledge to his advantage.

“Harder!” It was almost enough, but not quite, and Loki’s demand fell on deaf ears. Instead, Bucky shifted slightly, thrusting down to brush against that sweet spot he knew was hidden within Loki’s tight passage. The first two attempts missed, but on the third Loki cried out, face contorting with pleasure as stars exploded behind his eyes. His cock was leaking a steady stream of precum down over Steve’s stomach, the sticky trail shimmering on his skin. The Captain’s own desire for him was evident, and as Loki met his eyes he did not miss the hunger there.

Eventually the slow pace became too much even for Bucky, and he finally gave in to Loki’s keening pleas, hips snapping forward over and over as Steve’s hand reached up to grasp Loki’s shaft, pumping it in time to the near-violent thrusts. Bucky was hitting his prostate with almost every push into his willing body, Loki’s cries increasing in pitch as he was forced closer to the edge. With one more particularly solid thrust against that sweet spot, Loki cried out, muscles clenching around Bucky’s shaft as he spilled over Steve’s still pumping hand, coating both it and the Captain’s stomach in streams of white. Bucky followed soon after, pushing in deep, loosing a low groan as he emptied himself within his new lover.

“Damn.” Barely breathing the word, Bucky pulled out with a slight squelch, earning a shudder from Loki as his seed began to trickle free. Gently, he helped lower the panting, trembling man down onto Steve’s chest, before collapsing to his side on the bed, watching and waiting.

“If you want me to stop, just say.” Steve murmured in his ear, and Loki was about to voice his confusion when slick fingers pressed up against his already stretched hole, pressing in to tease and play with his entrance. “You’re so beautiful like this, I’m not sure how long I can hold back.” It was far too soon for Loki’s body, still entirely spent, and yet he found himself pressing back against those fingers with a small sigh.

“I am not fragile, I will not break.” Loki hummed against Steve’s neck, feeling the press of the Captain’s shaft against his belly. “Do not hold back on my account.”

“If you’re sure.” He sounded a little dubious, but the Captain’s body was clearly more insistent than his mind, and Loki found himself being pulled up higher so that Steve’s cock could press slowly into him. It was a stretch, and Loki could not help the keening whine that escaped his throat as he was forced open further still. Yet Steve moved slowly, peppering his shoulder with gentle kisses and murmuring small platitudes against his skin, pausing once he was fully seated so that Loki could adjust to the sheer size of him.

“Please, I need you to move.” Loki’s interest had reawakened, and his body was screaming at him to simply _move_ , to ride the thick shaft that twitched within him. Strong arms held him still though, and it was becoming something of a theme for the night. Ordinarily he would not mind; being held down was something of a kink for him, but he had experienced enough teasing for one night. Steve’s mouth paused from where it had been sucking a small, purple bruise just below his collarbone, lips curling up in a small smile that Loki could feel against his skin. Bracing both feet upon the bed, Steve began a series of shallow, languid thrusts that had Loki gasping for breath in mere moments.

As a stark contrast to Bucky, Steve was a quiet lover; his own gasps and cries were muffled against Loki’s skin, mostly lost to the tumbling moans that spilled from Loki’s own chest as he was split open. Their pace was dictated by their position, thrusts kept shallow and slower than Loki would have liked, though he suspected that Steve may have picked their position on purpose, knowing that many would struggle to take his sizeable cock. Loki, however, was not ‘most people’ and while the thick shaft within him felt amazing, he wondered just what it would be like to take the whole thing. Not that there was any rush, he thought, he would have other chances and he almost jumped at the sensation of another hand upon his back, forgetting for the moment that they were not alone.

Bucky was staring up at him, expression unreadable though Loki knew even through the haze of pleasure that had descended upon his mind that there was conflict in that gaze. After a moment, something seemed to click, and their lips met in a sweet kiss that somehow matched the pace of Steve’s movements.

“Loki-” Steve’s voice hitched and his thrusts were becoming more erratic. Loki’s cock was pressed between their bellies, their combined movements causing a delicious friction against the hard shaft that sent shivers down his spine, and while it ordinarily would not have been enough to finish him off, the sensation of being stretched open so thoroughly added enough to it that he could feel the heat building once more. With a moan and a shudder from the other man, Loki felt the hot splash of Steve’s release coating his insides, the cock within him twitching and pulsing as the Captain emptied himself deep within his lover. That was all it took, Loki pulling away from Bucky’s lips with a low cry, heat spreading over his belly as his own release smeared between them.

Spent, utterly exhausted for at least the moment, Loki was surprised when gentle hands rolled him off Steve’s broad chest, softening cock slipping from his body and dragging a whimper with it. He was cleaned and praised and it was all very strange and unusual to the Asgardian, though he found he rather enjoyed it, letting his eyes slide closed, sandwiched as he was between the two soldiers, sated and warm.

* * *

“So, was this just a one-time thing or do we get to keep you?” Bucky was facing away from them, tugging his underwear on and glancing around the room for his pants, frowning when he could not find them. Loki hummed softly, reaching for his bedside drawer, rolling himself atop Steve so that he could pull it open and groaning at the pull in his lower back.

“That, my dear Sergeant,” He rummaged in the drawer, as though searching for something, pulling his hand out and holding the tarnished brass key out to the other man. “Is entirely up to you.” Bucky glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening slightly at what he was being offered, fingers closing around the cool metal.

“You’re sure? This is a pretty big thing.” The key seemed heavy in his hand as Bucky stared down at it for a moment, knowing that the war meant they might not be able to remain for long, torn between his desire to be near this man and the need to preserve both of their feelings.

“So was letting you have your way with me, and I did not hear you complaining about that last night.” Loki purred, shifting to draw a convincing wince to his features, and Bucky at least had the common decency to look somewhat guilty at that.

“I guess. Me and Steve though, we come as a package deal. Can’t have one without the other.”

“I would not have it any other way.” The assurance in his voice was unmistakable, and there was not even a hint of apprehension there, enough for both men to relax.

“A package of three.” Steve hummed from above his head, nuzzling his face into Loki’s mussed hair, displacing it further.

“Guess I’ll see you later, then.” Loki was somewhat surprised when Bucky leaned in to kiss him first, the touch of lips all too brief, and he followed them up a short way as they retreated. Steve was treated to the same treatment, and both watched as Bucky sauntered from the room, yawning loudly.

“You’re okay with this?” Steve asked quietly, once Bucky was out of earshot, his concern evident.

“Surprisingly yes, I am entirely okay with this.” Loki agreed, pondering on the strange situation he had found himself in, wondering if he had the energy to entertain two lovers but knowing that he would try even if he did not. “You, my little bird, are something very special, and I have no intentions of losing you this time. That he has also offered himself to me, well, it is an added bonus.”

“Bucky’s not just a ‘bonus’.” Frowning, Steve’s arms loosened around Loki’s waist, and he could feel the man’s displeasure.

“Forgive me, I meant that his desiring me was a bonus. He is a remarkable man. Peculiar, but remarkable.” Steve seemed to relax at that, and Loki took the opportunity to nip at the man’s throat. “I have missed you, though. It seems foolish of me to admit, that what started as a flight of fancy has followed me these past three years, and I lament not having been able to remain at your side for it.”

“Duty calls, I guess.” The agreement Loki gave to that was not technically a lie; he had been called back to Asgard, not having meant to have left in the first place, and had been thrust immediately back into his duties as second prince. It had taken the past three years to persuade Odin to allow him to return, actually seeking approval for once, with the promise that he would return immediately if he were needed. Still, that was unlikely, so there was every chance he might be allowed to remain for months if not years.

Years, with the Captain and the Sergeant? Yes, Loki could get used to the idea of that.


	5. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a lot to write. And yes, I did cry a little.

“We’ll be gone three days, tops. Honestly, Loki, you don’t have to look so worried.” Bucky always seemed to find it amusing, how Loki would fret each and every time a new mission came in. He hated watching them both leave, despised the wait for their return. Only once both Steve and Bucky were back, safe, in the warmth of his bed could Loki breathe a sigh of relief and relax once more. Until the next time, at least.

“It’s a standard mission. Don’t worry, this one’ll hurt less than the last one did.” Steve, by contrast, spent their time in parting trying to reassure his lover that all would be well. The first handful of times, it had worked. Until the mission Bucky returned with second degree burns on his back and Steve had to pop his own shoulder back into place. After that, Loki finally started to comprehend the real and terrifying possibility that one, or both, might not return.

“The day that I cease being concerned for your well being is the day that I have stopped caring.” Loki replied softly, straightening Bucky’s collar for what must have been the sixth time that morning.

“Never gonna happen, right?” The Sergeant grinned, taking hold of Loki’s hips and tugging him close, gaze flickering between green eyes and soft lips as he lingered for a moment.

“Not in your lifetime, or my own.” Loki’s tone was firm, brokering no argument as he pressed forward into a soft kiss. Bucky did not allow it to remain tender for long, tilting his head a little as he pressed his tongue up against his lover’s lips, finding that they parted willingly enough for him. Loki tasted of spice and tea, a flavour Bucky had swiftly become addicted to, chasing after the taste as their tongues entwined.

“C’mon Buck, we don’t have long.” Steve had pressed up against Loki’s back, strong arms looping around his waist. His words held urgency, and yet his actions did not, the Captain nuzzling against Loki’s neck as Bucky pulled away from the kiss.

“Jealous, Stevie?”

“Always.” With a small hum, Steve reached up with gentle fingers to coax Loki to turn his head so he might have his own turn, lips moving against Loki’s with a languid ease that came only from practice.

“We’re already late, we gotta go.”

“I know.” Steve replied, pulling away with a certain amount of reluctance and allowing his eyes to linger upon Loki for a while longer than was necessary. “Stay safe, we’ll be back soon.”

“Before you know it.” Bucky agreed with a nod, stealing another quick kiss before finally letting go. “See if you can book yourself some leave for when we get back; you won’t be walking for at least a week when I’m done with you.”

“You and your threats, Sergeant Barnes.”

“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise.” With a wink and a dip of his hat, Bucky was gone, tugging the front door shut and racing after Steve to try to make up the time they had lost. Loki was left alone in his rooms, the space seeming suddenly too large, the clock ticking on the wall far too loud and the silence otherwise entirely unbearable.

Loki was never certain what to do with himself in the space of time between his lovers leaving and their eventual return. His cover was such that he could be seen at their base without too many questions being asked, a ‘loan’ from the British army, to ensure that the Americans were looking after their interests. It had not made him overly many friends, and frustratingly it kept him from combat - something he had initially planned, and later regretted - though it had allowed for some rather interesting trysts around the base when either Steve or Bucky were able to slip away for a few minutes.

With little else to do with his time, and only a meeting that evening with the General and a few of his men to look forward to, Loki sat himself at the desk in the corner of the bedroom and conjured a quill and parchment. He wasn’t certain what possessed him to write, and had little idea on what he might put to paper or why, but the scratch of quill against paper as elegant lines of script flowed effortlessly from his fingers was somehow soothing in the empty space.

_Thor,_

_How have you been, brother? It has been a scant few months, I should imagine you have barely noticed that I have been gone. Midgard is as interesting now as it always has been, though they are at war with one another at present, which makes my visit here ill-timed I suppose. I should have liked to help, though Father forbade any sort of outright ‘meddling’ - not that I would ever do anything so brash as ‘meddle’, of course. Perhaps a few helpful comments here or there, though he has forbidden those also._

_I was able to locate the friend of which I spoke; he has grown some, more in stature to yourself now than the little bird I grew so fond of. He is a warrior, a leader of men, and I worry for his well being each time they find a new and increasingly deadly battle for him to partake in. I should much prefer to stand at his side and fight with him, as I so often do with yourself, my brother. Yet, I cannot, and it is with this frustration that I write to you now._

_They have sent him off on another one of their ‘missions’. He can never share with me the particulars, and I would honestly rather not know. I am not used to having to remain behind and wait - I am not, as you know, well known for my patience!_

_Though much as I am concerned for Steve, it is Bucky for whom I truly fear. A friend of Steve’s, met upon my first night here, and we have the three of us been near inseparable since. He is also a valiant warrior, but with no more fighting prowess than any other Midgardian. Steve is closer to Asgardian than I think perhaps any here or there may realise, and I do wonder just how these Midgardian scientists were able to achieve that, but that is a matter for another day. Bucky is too normal, too easily broken, and I fear each time that he leaves that he will not again return. They will both grace the halls of Valhalla when they pass on, though I hope such a thing will not occur too soon. I did not believe it possible to care so strongly for these mortals, and yet I have been proven wrong it seems._

_How is Mother doing? She seemed distant when I bid her farewell, though would not speak of it. I have written to her of late but have had no response; is she well?_

_My intention is to return home for a few days with their next lengthy mission, though I have worked my way into their ranks a little too efficiently it seems and I may find it difficult to leave. Send Mother my love and advise Father that I have caused no ‘mischief’ of late so he need not worry._

_Loki._

Re-reading over the letter, he cleared away a few excess spatters of ink on the parchment with a simple spell, letting the words dry upon the page before carefully folding it and sliding it into the prepared envelope. Sealing it with a small amount of green wax and pressing his sigil into place, Loki willed the message away, using the spaces between worlds to place his letter upon the table beside Thor’s bed to be discovered later.

Scarcely half an hour had passed, and with the impromptu letter penned and sent, and little else to occupy his time, Loki decided it best that he not remain within the empty apartment. It was always too quiet without either of his lovers present, and seemed somehow more so when he knew they would not be returning for some time. It wasn’t as though he had anywhere in particular to go, or anything which needed to be done, yet anything was better than sitting in silence or listening to the crackle of the wireless.

Dressing in his uniform, knowing he would not likely be back until late into the evening - if, indeed, at all that day - Loki slipped out the door and into the stairwell of the building they occupied. An ache had settled deep in the pit of his stomach, and though he tried to ignore it he found he simply could not shake it off. Stepping out into the street, Loki’s features shifted into the calm neutrality that he often wore when out in public, finding that the general populace tended to keep out of his way provided he did not make eye contact. He was tall enough to be intimidating, and the unfamiliar yet recognisable uniform of the British army meant he could come and go as he pleased without too much of an issue.

The streets, familiar by now, passed in a blur as Loki tried in vain to dispel the niggling doubt at the back of his mind that he simply could not explain. He walked because he had little better to do, though the military issue Midgardian shoes that were expected of an officer bit and rubbed as he did so. Loki’s mind was elsewhere, and he only barely registered his location as the unmistakable slope of the land took him down towards the base of operations he had not been due to visit for several hours yet.

The base itself was fairly nondescript; it appeared no different from any other military base Loki had visited, though admittedly he had not yet seen many. Flags fluttered atop overly tall poles and lookout towers punctuated all four corners. Barbed wire fences and dog patrols kept would-be spies at bay and a wooden shack housed the guard who manned the gate. Utterly unremarkable, and yet somehow he had found his way there without meaning to.

“Colonel Bramley?” He had barely made it past the guards before he was spotted. Turning, Loki plastered what he hoped to be a confident smile upon his features, meeting Peggy Carter’s curious gaze as she approached. “The meeting isn’t for another four hours, Colonel Phillips isn’t even here yet. Did they give you the wrong time?” The name had been Thor’s idea; Loki had needed one, and Thor had spent more time on Midgard than he, so it had made sense to ask his brother’s opinion on the matter. Loki had almost gone with ‘Smith’, what with it being the most common British surname at the time, yet it took very little coercion on Thor’s part to persuade him to change it.

“No, not at all Miss Carter.” Despite what he had been told, Loki simply could not bring himself to refer to the woman as ‘agent’. She did not seem to mind, had even insisted that he call her Peggy after a time, yet he held a little too much respect for her and not quite enough familiarity to be able to use her given name quite yet. “I simply had far too much time on my hands, and thought I might make myself useful here.”

“We could have sent a car, you know.” Peggy scolded, glancing down at his now muddied and scuffed shoes. It would have been simple enough, he thought, to weave a spell to clean them had she not already noticed the state of them.

“I will admit that I had only initially intended upon getting some fresh air, and it was not until I was already quite a distance from home that the idea occurred to me.” She did not need to know that the idea had not truly occurred to him at all, that his being there was simple happenstance. He fell into step beside her as they walked briskly towards the main building complex, noting how her attention never seemed to waver from him.

“If you want to be of assistance, I am sure Howard could use a hand, though I’m sure your superiors have far more important matters for you to attend to.”

“You would think so, wouldn’t you?” Loki hummed, tone good-natured and light as he nodded to a soldier who saluted them as they passed. “It’s starting to feel rather like they’ve abandoned me here, actually. I haven’t had any proper correspondence from them in weeks, and I’m almost certain they have stopped reading my reports.”

“Well, if you will insist on causing trouble.” She chuckled, giving him a slight nudge with her elbow, and Loki could not help but grin in return.

“It is in my nature, my dear. I can only be what I am.” 

“May I ask, why _did_ they send you here? The job they’ve got you doing could have been carried out by anyone, why send someone so high up?”

“I am, it seems, a nuisance. Father insists I remain out of trouble, and so I am prevented from serving on the front line.” He had spun a tale, some months past, of his father being a high-powered businessman with some sway over the run of the country, and while Bucky had poked fun at him for a while for being ‘well to-do’, the little fact had been mostly ignored since.

“You would want to?”

“In a heartbeat.” The crunch of feet on gravel paused as Loki stopped in his tracks, Peggy following in kind, a little surprised at the sudden halt. “There are good men out there, fighting for their country. That I could fight at their sides...I can think of no nobler idea.”

“You know, I really wasn’t sure what to make of you when we first met, but you’re a good man, Colonel Bramley. _Loki_. I can see why Steve admires you so much.” The mention of his lover’s name caused Loki’s heart to clench involuntarily, his stomach tightening and throat suddenly dry.

“As I admire him also, though I do somewhat miss his old self. It is difficult to keep track of him now that he is Captain America.”

“You prefer his old form, from before the serum?”

“I am not sure that ‘prefer’ is the right word.” Loki pondered on that for a moment, pushing the door open as they reached their destination, holding open the door for Peggy before following her into the makeshift laboratory. “He was different then, but not overly so. Less confident, perhaps, in his own abilities.”

“He will be fine, you know.” Peggy’s voice dropped, quiet enough that Stark - engrossed as he was in whatever he was reading - would not overhear. “He’ll come home, as he always does, Sergeant Barnes in tow and with a few new stories to tell.”

“I believe Steve might live through jumping into an active volcano, stubborn as he is.” Loki replied with a low chuckle, though his features remained dark. “Bucky, though - I cannot help but worry for him while I am trapped here, entirely safe.”

“If it makes you feel any better, the feeling is entirely mutual.” It didn’t make him feel better, yet Loki appreciated the sentiment at least, offering her a crooked smile as they both grew silent. She knew, perhaps more than she let on, and yet certainly not as much as Loki could tell her should he wish to. Not that he ever would; what went on between himself, the Sergeant and the Captain would remain behind closed doors. Still, he had not missed how Peggy looked at Steve, and could not help the spark of jealousy as at least some of those looks were returned.

Not that Steve would ever allow more than his eyes to wander; he was too good, too pure for that. Bucky was more forgiving of the casual flirtation than Loki, though he could still see that it bothered the man; Loki had been someone they could share, someone Bucky had wound up desiring almost as much as Steve. Peggy would be something different - if he chose to pursue her, he would be entirely lost to them both, and yet Loki could not find it within himself to resent her for it. The Captain was an attractive man, and she could not know for certain that he was spoken for in any way.

_“It started out as an accident, you know.” Bucky had mused one night when the pair of them had been alone, one too many beers loosening his tongue, though it never truly took much for him to bare his mind to Loki. “Me and Steve, I mean. I don’t remember most of it but I know we were both drunk.” The Sergeant had leaned back against Loki, and it was automatic the way Loki’s arm slid around the smaller man. “He won’t tell me if I was his first or not, and I can’t work out if it’s because he wants me to think I was, so it was something ‘special’, or if he doesn’t want me to feel guilty for taking his virginity while drunk.”_

_“I think that with Steve either is possible, and that perhaps you drink too much.”_

_“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll knock it on the head when this war’s over.”_

The day passed reasonably swiftly; much of it was spent with Stark, helping the man with his research, though having to refrain from showing too much of an understanding lest the man discover he was not simply a semi-intelligent soldier and commandeer more of his time than was absolutely necessary. He did not dislike the man; he was truly quite brilliant, yet something about his confidence, the idea that he was infallible, irked Loki.

Peggy had disappeared with his shoes shortly after leaving him with Howard, not returning with them until some time later, looking almost as new as when he had first acquired them - apparently the soldiers about the base were good for something. Padding around the lab in just his socks had been something of an experience for Loki, though certainly not one that he wished to repeat any time soon.

The meeting itself was, as expected, entirely dull and far too long. Still, Loki sat to attention throughout the entire thing, knowing that he would need to report back upon the most important portions in order to keep up his facade and hoping that it might, somehow and in some way, give him something he could use to help keep Steve and Bucky safe. It was past dark by the time they were done, and it took very little persuasion from Stark, and the promise of a fresh bottle of scotch, for him to remain behind.

The alcohol did little, the company less, but it was still better than laying alone in his far too large bed wondering on what Steve and Bucky might be doing. Curled up in a tent together, in all likelihood. Too far away from home for his liking, too close to danger, and Loki would have given up his status as second prince of Asgard to be in that tent with them.

The second day passed with no more interest than the first; slow, dull, and with the inevitable hangover that Loki only had to deal with by proxy. Still, Stark was easier to handle than Bucky whenever he had one of his monumental hangovers, and also decidedly less clingy. Three days, he thought as noon rolled around. Three days that felt as though they might never end. He should have gone back to Asgard, just as something to do, as Stark was called away, Peggy was entirely too busy to entertain him and no one else on base cared enough to spare him the time of day.

Day three was almost as bad, and after two consecutive days on base without returning home for a change of clothes and a shower, Peggy practically pushed him into the car herself, instructing the driver to take him straight home. Loki found that he did not mind so much; they had heard nothing negative so far, and where their missions were concerned no news meant good news. Radio silence had always been the best way to stay alive, and he knew that they would only break their silence if they absolutely had to. Still, it did not help lessen the churning in his gut, and he knew only having them both home would help. Until the next mission, at least.

When there was still no sign of them on the morning of the fourth day, Loki’s worry only intensified. He considered returning to the base, yet decided against it; he had always met them back at the apartment, the privacy of his rooms a better locale for the sort of welcome-home greetings they tended to share.

It seemed an age before the sound of a key in the lock, unsteady hand taking longer than usual to force it home and turn it so the door might open. There was none of the usual chatter, the good-natured call of Loki’s name to let him know they were back entirely missing, and when he stepped through into the small hallway Loki found Steve standing there staring at him. Alone.

“Steve? Where’s-” The sharp inhalation of breath stopped him, arm outstretched and forced smile sliding from his face. Steve’s eyes slammed shut before him, head dipped and hands clenched by his sides. He was trying so very hard not to cry, or at least not to cry in front of Loki.

“Gone.” The word was ground out through clenched teeth, tongue thick in his mouth and pressed up against the backs of his teeth. Steve’s nails dug deep into his palms, leaving circular welts, the pain on the outside barely working as a distraction from the pain within. “S-sorry-” Swallowing repeatedly, trying to dispel the bile building up in his throat, Steve was barely aware when he started moving, striding past Loki without looking at him.

“Gone? He can’t be-” Can’t be dead, Loki thought, unable to form the words. They had not been meant for Steve, and yet the Captain flinched regardless, his back to Loki as he gathered a handful of trinkets and a few clothes, stuffing them haphazardly into a duffel bag.

“He...he fell. He’s gone, he can’t...no one could survive that fall.”

“You’re leaving.” It wasn’t a question, and the words ached as he spoke them.

“I just-” Pausing, Steve dragged in a ragged breath, pulling the bag closed and slinging it over his shoulder. “I can’t be here right now. It’s too much, I can’t-” He did not look at Loki again, fleeing the apartment without glancing back once, and Loki did not need to see Steve’s face to know that the tears he had been holding back had spilled over, running down his cheeks and leaving just three small, wet droplets on the linoleum before the door slammed shut and he was gone.

Loki barely made it to the couch before his knees buckled. He stared at the coffee table for a time, or through it, mind whirling and standing still and he simply could not process what had just happened.

Bucky was gone. Bucky was _dead_ , and somehow Loki had known, had felt that it was all wrong, even before they had left. And he had still let them leave. He had as good as plunged a knife into Bucky’s chest himself.

And Steve knew. Somehow, in some way, he knew, because he had left. Loki had, in less than four days, lost everything he had ever wished to keep. The two people he cared about more, perhaps, than his own family were gone. The ache in his belly had moved up to his chest, as though someone had reached in and torn out his heart, the gaping hole hurting more than he could bear. 

He was crying, but he couldn’t feel the tears dripping down his face. He was screaming, but his ears picked up no noise, save the pounding of his own blood in his head, and when he finally woke, hours later and with no recollection of falling asleep, there was red under his fingernails from where he had scratched deep welts into his arms.

The clock ticked loudly upon the wall, marking the passage of time, and taking him further and further from the two men he loved most.


	6. Chapter 6

“You have to eat.” A plate clattered upon the table in front of him, and Loki did not bother to rise from his position, curled tightly against the arm of the couch. He wasn’t certain precisely how she had gotten in, but Peggy Carter had visited his apartment every day for the past week. Sometimes she would be there a scant few minutes, sometimes hours. She had cooked for him cleaned around him, and generally made a nuisance of herself in the hopes that it might garner some sort of reaction from the broken Colonel.

Because he truly was broken. As strong as Loki might have been, he had never truly lost anyone he loved before. And in so short a period of time, he had lost not one but two. He did not wish to eat, did not want to move from the couch that still faintly smelled of his lovers, yet could not bring himself to visit the bed they had so recently shared, the ache too great. He had considered returning home, and yet something stopped him. Despite how Steve had left, Loki could not simply do the same; whether Steve still wanted to be with him or not, he had a duty to the other man, and would remain until he knew he was no longer needed.

“Look, Loki, I know he was your friend-” Loki’s bark of laughter cut her off, though there was no amusement in his eyes and the sneer that transformed his features sent an unpleasant shiver down her spine. “Alright, well that answers that question. Come here.” Her tone brokered no argument, and Loki found himself tugged from his spot on the couch. He wasn’t certain as to why he allowed her to maneuver him into position, yet for some reason he voiced no protest as he was manhandled into almost sitting, then pulled against the slighter woman. 

She was warm and soft, and in another life perhaps he might have desired her, yet the hands upon his back and hair were sisterly, and the press of red lips upon his forehead was maternal, and Loki could not help the way his own arms encircled her waist or the dry, gut-wrenching sob that tore through him. He ached, and while Peggy’s presence at his side did nothing to lessen the pain, it helped ease the loneliness that had spread through him.

“Have you and Steve spoken much since, well…” Loki’s gasping breaths shuddered against her shoulder, uniform there creased and wet, yet Peggy found that she did not much care. She could feel the slight shift of Loki’s head as he gulped down calming breaths, clearly unused to losing control in such a way.

“I have not seen him since he returned home to inform me that-” Forcing his eyes shut, Loki swallowed around the rising bile, knowing that his stomach had nothing within it that could be emptied.

“He’s not been back since then?” Her hands stilled and tightened, holding him closer still, and there was clear surprise in her voice, along with a hint of anger that he knew was not directed towards himself. 

“He left. I doubt he will return.”

“Where the bloody hell’s he been sleeping, then?” It was the first time Loki had heard the woman swear in the months that he had known her, and it might have been amusing at any other time, in any other place. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter. Come on, we’re going for a drive.”

“I do not wish to-”

“I don’t give a damn what you want right now Loki; you’re slowly killing yourself and I care about you too much to let that happen. Now put your shoes on or so help me I will tie them for you myself.”

Loki wasn’t certain where she had managed to get a car with tinted windows from, or in fact why she had it in the first place, but as he sat in the back seat, leaning against the coloured glass, he was thankful for small mercies. He was dressed in the same slacks and shirt he had been wearing the day before, hair uncombed and wild, curling slightly without the usual wax to hold it in place. His eyes were sunken into his skull, the dark rings around them stark against his too-pale skin, and had he been able to smile, the motion would likely have split his lips from how dry they had become.

The world passed by in a haze of nothing, and Loki did not care. He paid little attention to where they were going, or why, barely recognising the familiar gates and high fences as they passed through into the base without so much as a second glance from the soldiers on gate duty that day. It was not until the car came to a halt that Peggy finally turned to look at him, her expression unreadable, not that he was particularly trying.

“I’m going to be gone for just a few minutes, stay here, won’t you? I’ll lock the doors, see to it that you’re not bothered by anyone until I get back.” She offered him a small smile, concern and something else playing upon her features, and was gone, car door slamming shut in her wake. Loki sat entirely still, staring down at the folded fingers in his lap. His heart ached, pulled in too many different directions, and what had started as a gaping cavern of loss within him had morphed into something else, a listless emptiness that he could not seem to shift, did not want to shift, not really. He had no idea how to handle this grief, and even Peggy’s support wasn’t quite enough.

The car door clicked open, and Loki did not need to look up to know who had slid onto the leather-covered seat beside him. “Hey.” Steve’s voice sounded rough, torn from shouting and tears, broken in a different way and yet still broken. “Peggy said I should probably talk to you, before I leave again.”

“She is a good woman, I can see why you love her as you do.” Loki’s own voice appeared alien to him, scratchy and quiet, holding none of his usual command. He let his fingers unravel, placing his hand upon the seat beside him, giving Steve the option to take it should he wish as they had done so many times before, the idea familiar enough that his palm tingled at the memory, aching to touch.

“That she is.” There was a fondness there, and Loki knew it should not have ached quite so much as it did, hating himself for the stab of bitter envy in his chest.

“They are sending you out again already?”

“Yeah, we leave in less than an hour.” Steve was staring at him, openly now, and yet still Loki could not bring himself to turn and look upon his lover. “No time like the present, right?” Loki had no answer for that, merely dipping his chin in what might have been a nod. “Listen, I’m sorry about all this. I just couldn’t stay there, with you. Not without Bucky, he’s...it reminded me too much of him, hurt too much, you know?” Another nod, because Loki did know, knew far too well how much it burned, remaining trapped in a space that had been made for three and now contained only one. “We can talk about it more when I get back, alright?”

“I have been thinking that I might return home.” He wasn’t sure that he had meant to say it, but as the words left Loki’s lips, he found that he meant them. He had nothing here; at least on Asgard he might find at least some comfort.

“Might be for the best.” It was Steve’s turn to nod his agreement, and Loki wasn’t certain if the flicker of regret he caught out of the corner of his eye was simply his imagination or not. “We’ll talk when I get back, okay? I’ll be back within a day, promise.” The door opened once more, leather creaking as Steve moved from the car, and Loki was alone once more. He found his fingers had grown cold upon the seat beside him, curling both hands back into his lap to try to reduce the ache just a little.


	7. Farewell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It only took me three months to be happy with this chapter...
> 
> Hopefully it was worth the wait, and it won't be quite so long until the next one!

“Loki!” The door by his head was wrenched open, Peggy’s frantic shout pulling him from the restless sleep he had apparently slipped into some hours earlier, curled up on the cramped back seat of the car. He stumbled as she dragged him across the pebbles and tarmac of the base, bleary-eyed and uncertain of his surroundings. She had her hand in his, squeezing so tightly he thought her fingers might snap, her usual rosy complexion replaced with an almost sickly pallor, and her expression remained grim.

“Where are we going?” She did not respond, pushing open the wide double doors before them and dragging him through into the base. “Peggy, what is going on?” He wasn’t certain when she had stopped being ‘Miss Carter’ and started being ‘Peggy’, but she had not minded the transition, and Loki found he much preferred the familiarity. Men scattered as they passed, and Loki did not miss the shock upon many of their faces at the usually unruffled Peggy Carter dragging the strangely unkempt Colonel towards the radio tower. They each appeared to be so different from their normal selves that he might not have been too surprised to have his identity questioned.

They blew into the radio tower like a whirlwind, the guard at the door saluting briskly at Peggy before making a swift exit, the door closing behind him. The room was otherwise unoccupied, a fact which Loki found both a relief and marginally disconcerting. The room itself seemed cavernous without the usual buzz of operators and soldiers manning the various frequencies, passing messages and taking note of anything of interest on the airwaves. Loki had always hated the buzz of activity from within there, and yet now he found that he missed it, the room too quiet and nothing but static telegraphing over the speakers.

“Peggy?” Steve’s voice sounded tinny as it seemed to fill the room, and Loki could not help but jump slightly at the sound. “Peggy, you there?” He was shouting to be heard, wind and the whir of engines near deafening. An aircraft was the likely explanation, yet it seemed too loud and Peggy was not forthcoming with information at that point.

“I’m here, Steve, I’m here.” She had all but collapsed into the chair situated before the microphone, all strength gone from her, back hunched as her face contorted.

“Peg, this is...looks like this is it, I’m outta time.” The line crackled, and for an awful moment Loki thought they might have lost him. From the way Peggy sat up a little straighter, eyes flickering over the knobs and dials on the board in front of them, she had too, but after a moment Steve’s breathing could be heard once more.

“There has to be something-” She sounded desperate, and perhaps she was, fingers white where they gripped the edge of the console.

“Peggy.” Steve’s voice cracked slightly, and Loki felt the jolt run through him. “This is my choice.” There was a rapid series of clicks and the whirring hum that had accompanied Steve intensified. It took a moment for Loki to realise what that meant; whatever Steve was piloting, it was going down, and he wasn’t planning on surviving. “Peggy?”

“I’m here.” She replied, a little too swiftly, turning to briefly regard Loki over her shoulder before returning her attention to the microphone. Loki remained still, watching her, watching the speaker, knowing neither were going to give him what he needed.

“Tell Loki-”

“You can tell him yourself.” Peggy interrupted before he could finish, squeezing her eyes shut before standing from the chair. Loki took it without really thinking, sliding bonelessly into the hard seat, barely registering when Peggy took a seat behind him, her head in her hands.

“Steven.” Loki wasn’t certain what to say. What _could_ he say? He ached, still, from the distance that had made itself known in the car only hours before, from the shill that still pervaded his fingers. He hated himself, a little, for not taking the kiss he had so badly wanted before Steve had stepped out of the vehicle and left. Forever, it seemed.

“Loki…” His tone sounded almost wistful, and it drew a memory within his mind’s eye for a moment, of Steve nude against perfectly white sheets, watching Loki trace shapes upon his chest and belly, eyes carrying nothing but wonder for this god-like creature who had chosen to worship a mere man. It ached, the thought of what he could no longer have, and Loki found himself blinking away tears.

“Please, there has to be some other way.” It was his turn to plead, and Loki was not above it, not where Steve was concerned. He swallowed down a lump that was threatening to emerge as a sob, vision blurring slightly though he blinked it away.

“There isn’t.” Steve paused, a small and impossibly sad sigh carrying over the radio. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do this face to face. I’d planned to, maybe, when I got back, if I could’ve plucked up the courage.” He laughed, yet there was little mirth in the sound.

“Steve, I need you to come home.” _I cannot lose you as well_. Bucky’s death had been enough to almost send him over the edge, what would losing Steve as well do to him? It was war, he had known upon entering their strange relationship that not all of them would make it out alive, and yet the loss had been more agonising than he could ever have possibly imagined.

“I can’t.” He sounded so broken, and all Loki wished to do was to wrap his arms around his lover and hold him. If this was to be the end, he wanted to be there as well, and yet without knowing precisely where Steve was, there was little he could do. “I love you, Loki, and I’m sor-” There was sound like a crunch, cut off, and then only static remained.

“Steve?” Loki’s voice trembled slightly, his breath hitching in his throat, yet the static persisted. “ _Steve!_ ” He was shouting, then, the room seeming too large and too small all at once, surrounding him, crushing with a pressure he wasn’t sure he could stand. Loki’s face had twisted into one of rage as he screamed into the microphone, drowning out Peggy’s quiet sobs in the chair behind him. He wanted to hit something, to hurt whoever had caused this to happen, to make them suffer for the ever-expanding hole in his chest as he realised slowly, finally; Steve wasn’t coming back.

Loki’s knees buckled, the fight draining out of him as he crashed to the floor. He was shaking, dry sobs wracking his form, his whole being seeming to ache even as a numbness stretched through his body. He could not have said how long he remained there, but after a time Peggy shifted, moving to wrap her arms around his shoulders and lean into his back. He wanted to push her away, to draw her closer, to take comfort from her while never seeing her again.

He wanted to snap her pretty little neck, and that thought was simply terrifying.

He was gone, by morning. A letter was all that remained, advising those who had been acting as his superiors that he was being called back to London and would not be returning. Loki hadn’t wished to see any of the men he had spent so long working alongside, to bid them farewell, wasn’t certain that he would have been able to. He left nothing for Peggy, deciding that as much as he cared for the woman, she would be better off with only memories, as those might hurt less than some meaningless momento or written keepsake. 

She mourned his loss; he felt it within his chest. Not quite so keenly as she mourned for Steve, but it was still there, and he could not quash the guilt at having left her entirely alone.

* * *

“Brother! You have finally returned.” Thor’s smile was like a beacon, bright and beaming as he strode towards Loki’s hunched figure. His splendour was almost enough to blind, as was the shimmering golden city that was Asgard, after having spent so long amid the dreary greys of Midgard.

Loki found that he missed it already.

“Thor.” He offered by way of greeting, eyes red and throat parched. Thor’s smile seemed to dim as he approached, blue eyes skimming over Loki’s form, taking in the plain clothing and unkempt appearance of his usually spotless younger brother.

“Loki? What has happened?” A heavy hand upon his shoulder was all that it took; Loki’s face crumpled, and he let Thor pull him to his broad chest, sobbing as he hadn’t since childhood, hands bunched into fists in his brother’s cape. Strong arms encased him in a firm, unrelenting hug, and he had never before needed Thor so much as he did at that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a tumblr, and I do prompts from there!
> 
> http://syrum.tumblr.com/


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